Chapter 211: Not Him. Not Ever.
The room held the same shape, but no one was relaxed anymore.
Glasses where they’d been. Nate’s hand near the edge of the table. Julian leaned back with one arm along the seat, but his shoulders hadn’t dropped. Gilbert hadn’t touched his drink at all. The ice had melted.
Arianne’s fingers were close to Franz’s. Not touching. She hadn’t moved them in a while.
No one spoke. Not waiting. Thinking.
Nate broke it first.
"If we’re missing where they went," he said, turning his glass, watching the liquid move, "then we’re missing who they met." He didn’t look up immediately. "People don’t move like that for no reason. Not that often."
Julian exhaled through his nose. "They weren’t sightseeing. That’s obvious."
Arianne stared at the condensation ring under her glass. Watching it spread.
Regular trips. A year. Not random.
Gilbert leaned forward. "Then we trace the trips. Routes, bookings, anything that leaves a footprint."
Nate nodded. "Already on it."
A beat.
"But there’s another angle."
He finally looked up.
"Dominic."
Gilbert’s hand came flat on the table. Hard.
The sound cut through the room. Sharp.
"No."
The word came out hard. Immediate. Julian’s hand froze mid-reach for his glass. Nate’s gaze snapped to Gilbert. The bar noise pulled back.
Arianne didn’t move. But she could feel her own pulse spiking, and it wasn’t the name. It was Gilbert’s hand flat on that table. The whiteness of his knuckles. She’d seen him angry before. Not like this.
Franz’s arm pressed against hers. Steady.
Gilbert’s jaw was tight. His shoulders had locked forward. Fingers spread against the wood like he was bracing. His voice was low.
"Not him. Not ever."
Nate held up a hand. "Just hear me out. He had access to structures around Summers. He knows how those systems work, how money moves through them. If there’s anyone who might know what Alex was tracking—"
"I said no."
Gilbert cut him off. His voice was shaking. Just slightly. His eyes fixed on Nate, hand pressed so hard the knuckles had gone white.
Julian leaned forward. "Gil—"
"You don’t understand." Gilbert turned on him. Not angry at Julian. Just—something underneath that had been sitting too long. "Alex didn’t trust him. From the beginning. Alex saw something in him that none of us wanted to see. And he was right."
He looked at Arianne.
"He did this to her. Seven years with her. And he walked away like it was nothing."
Her eyes stung. She blinked it away. She couldn’t look at his face. She looked at his hands instead—the knuckles, the way they were white, the specific effort of a man holding himself in—and something in her throat pulled tight that had nothing to do with Dominic and everything to do with how long Gilbert had been carrying this.
Gilbert wasn’t done.
"We didn’t know. Alex and I. We didn’t know what was happening until after." His voice cracked on the last word.
Under the table, she felt Franz’s hand close into a fist against his thigh. She felt it because her leg was near his. He didn’t make a sound. But his breathing had changed.
"She never told us," Gilbert said. "She never said a word. And he just—"
He stopped. Pressed his palm harder against the table. His shoulders were shaking.
"Alex kept his distance after that. Not because he was scared of Dominic. Because he knew. He knew the kind of man he was dealing with. And he never—" Gilbert’s throat moved. "He never got the chance to do anything about it."
The room was silent.
Nate had his hands in his lap. Julian was looking at the table.
Arianne’s hand was on the table. Her fingers had pressed into the wood without her noticing. She could feel her own pulse in her palm.
She had spent years not telling them. They had spent years watching and not being able to help. This was the shape of it—Gilbert with his hands shaking, the ice melted in his glass, the years of it in his voice.
She didn’t realize she was going to speak until she did.
"I didn’t know you knew."
Gilbert’s eyes were bright. He didn’t wipe them. "We knew something was wrong. Alex kept asking. I kept asking. You wouldn’t talk." A pause. "By the time we figured it out, you’d already left him. We didn’t have to do anything. We just had to be there."
He let out a breath. Unsteady.
"But Alex never forgot. He never trusted Dominic. And he was right not to."
He looked at Nate. Hand flat against the wood. Fingers spread.
"Alex spent years building something. His family. His life. His work. And Dominic was connected to the people who took all of it." His voice dropped. "I don’t care what he knows. I don’t care what it costs us. He doesn’t get to touch this. Not Alex’s life. Not Layla’s. Not hers."
He looked at Arianne when he said that last part.
She held his gaze. Something moved in her throat. She swallowed it.
Nate sat back. He didn’t argue.
Julian exhaled. Dragged a hand through his hair.
Gilbert’s hand lifted off the table. He sat back. The anger was in him—she could see it in the set of his jaw—but the worst of it had gone somewhere else.
"So no. We don’t go to him. Not for information. Not for anything."
He looked at Nate. Then Julian. Then Arianne.
"He doesn’t get to be part of this."
Arianne looked at him for a long moment.
Franz was beside her. She could feel the warmth of him, the steadiness. She didn’t need to look.
"Okay," she said.
Gilbert blinked. "Okay?"
"Okay." She leaned back slightly. "You’re right. He’s not an option."
He stared at her for a second. Like he’d been ready to fight. His hand pressed hard against his thigh.
"You mean it?"
"I mean it."
His shoulders dropped. Not all at once. Something in him unwinding, like it had been wound too tight for too long and didn’t know how to stop all at once. His fingers stopped pressing. His hand went loose against his leg.
Arianne’s hand moved. Not far. She set it on the table between them. Not reaching. Just—there. Available.
Gilbert looked at it. Then at her. Something in his face changed.
"Okay," he said. Low.
That was all. That was enough.
The bar noise started filtering back. Laughter. Glasses. Music. None of it reached the booth.
Franz’s fingers moved on the table. Just enough to rest beside Arianne’s. Not touching.
She let her hand stay where it was.
Nate picked up his glass. "That leaves us with the trips."
Julian leaned forward. "What’s the play? If we’re not going to Dominic, we need more than routes and bookings."
"Then I dig deeper. Bank records. Credit cards. Phone pings. If they were moving around for a year, they left marks."
"Not if they were trying not to," Julian said.
"Then it takes longer." Nate set his glass down. "Doesn’t mean it’s gone."
"Start with the first six months," Arianne said. "See if there’s a pattern. Frequency, distance, duration. If they escalated, that tells us something."
Nate nodded. "And if it was the same places over and over?"
"Then those places matter."
Julian rubbed the back of his neck. "If Alex was tracking Dominic’s connections, the trips might tie to someone he was meeting. Someone who knew how the shell structures worked from the inside."
Gilbert’s head came up. "Then we need to know who. Not just where."
"If he was meeting people off the books, there won’t be records," Nate said.
"Then we find people who knew him," Gilbert said. "He had contacts. Someone knew what he was doing."
Franz spoke. Low. Even.
"If Alex was building something—a case, a file, anything—he would have kept it somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could touch it."
Gilbert’s brow pulled together. "You think he left something behind?"
Franz looked at Arianne. Not asking permission. Checking.
She nodded.
"He was careful," Franz said. "He knew what he was walking into. He wouldn’t have gone in without a backup."
"Then we find the backup," Nate said.
"It exists," Gilbert said. Certain. "Alex didn’t take risks like that. Not with Layla. Not with the kids. He left something. Someone just has to find it."
He looked at Arianne. "Where would he put something like that?"
She thought about it. The places Alex went. The people he trusted. The spaces he kept separate.
"I don’t know," she said. "But I’ll find it."
Gilbert nodded. "Then we split it. Nate works the financials. Julian watches the Conways’ side. I’ll reach out to people Alex worked with."
"And me?" Arianne asked.
Gilbert met her eyes. "You find what he left behind."
The words sat there. Heavy. Not impossible.
Arianne’s hand was on the table. Franz’s beside it. The warmth from his skin.
Nate picked up his glass. Drank. "I’ll have something by the end of the week. Maybe sooner."
Julian leaned back. "I’ll start making calls."
Gilbert said nothing. He was looking at the table. His hands weren’t shaking anymore.
Franz’s finger brushed against hers. Then held.
No one else saw it.
Arianne let it stay.
The door stayed closed. The bar thinned around them. No one reached for their coats.
No one was sitting back either.